Covert Operations
by ladyd10
Summary: Doing something good, kind and loving for someone on the team. Deliberately vague. It will be satisfying if you choose it.


_**Covert Operations**_

It was a covert op and Ziva was good at them. True, she was a terrible liar under ordinary circumstances. She couldn't cover for anyone to save her life, but keeping secrets was easy for her. The plan had been Gibbs' idea, but he was terrible at this kind of operation, so, he left it to Ziva to carry out.

It had only taken her a couple of hours to make all her contacts and arrange things. Barring any unforseen obstacles, the operation should go off on time Saturday afternoon. She just had one more thing to do to complete the set up.

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Ziva entered Autopsy to find it darkened and empty, save for Ducky sitting at his desk in a gentle pool of light, filling out paperwork.

"Hello, Ducky," she said softly, not wishing to speak loudly for fear of corrupting the peaceful atmosphere. It was so blissfully quiet and soothing in there without the bright lights and bodies on the slabs. He had soft Classical music playing on his CD player on his desk. She cocked her head, listening. "Bach?"

"You have a good ear," he said, smiling up at her as she perched on the edge of his desk.

"I grew up with Classical music in the house all the time. My sister sang opera," she explained, eyes going soft for a moment, almost sad. Then the sparkle returned to them. "She had the most beautiful voice, Ducky. Tali and I took singing lessons, though, her voice was far superior to mine. We all took piano and I took dance. But, I did not come down here to discuss the fine arts with you."

"What can I do for you, my dear girl?" he asked, rather unconcerned for she was relaxed and smiling.

She shook her head. "No, it is not what you can do for me, but I, for you. What are you doing this Saturday, say, around four?"

"I was just planning on staying home with a good book," Ducky answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because, I happen to know that that is your birthday and I would like to make dinner for you to celebrate," Ziva said. "Please come to my apartment for dinner."

Ducky smiled up at her, eyes crinkling in the corners. "I would be delighted, my dear."

She returned the smile. "Then it is a date. Now, you must tell me what it is you wish for your special meal."

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Ziva stopped at Gibbs' desk and said in a soft voice, hardly above a whisper. "It has begun."

Gibbs looked up at her. "Provisions?"

"McGee and Abby. DiNozzo will man the base with me. I need you on look out," Ziva ordered.

"Alright; done." Gibbs replied.

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McGee stared at her, wide-eyed after she fired off a list of things for he and Abby to get for the birthday dinner. She sounded so professional, nearly lethal in her precision and detail. "Ziva, this is a side of you I've never seen. Were you a party planner in another life? You have everything scary organized."

She gave him a near Gibbs-like stare, still in a Mossad-like organizational mode. "Platoon leader in Israeli military at 17 and then straight into Mossad, McGee. I spent some time as a Kidon Unit Leader before becoming a Control Officer. That is when you met me. I was Ari's Control Officer. I had the responsibility of planning whole missions for multiple officers and co-ordinating their every move. I have needed to perform forced extractions when things went wrong. Now, those were never my missions, save for Ari, but I was one of the Officers called in to extract players from other missions."

Abby's voice was full of awe. "I know this may sound like a dumb question, but what all is a forced extraction?"

Ziva smiled softly at her. "A forced extraction happens when an Officer goes rogue and has fallen off the planned mission and goes off on a plan of their own. A Control Officer is sent in to bring him or her back to Tel Aviv to Mossad and try to discover what made the officer go off on his or her own. Depending on how far off the mission the officer went, would dictate how severe the extraction needed to be. I and Malachi Ben-Gidon were usually the ones called in on the most difficult."

Visions of just what that might entail, having been made familiar with Mossad tactics over the years danced in both of their heads and they both took an involuntary step back. Ziva's eyes went sad. "I am sorry. I have frightened you. I should have said nothing. That was who I was, not who I am now. I have done things that I was proud of then, but I am not proud of now. Besides, this I am proud of and it will be good for true good."

Abby's giant heart broke and she rushed around Ziva's desk and enveloped her in a tight embrace. "I know you're a good person, no matter what you've been trained to do and I'm glad you're our friend and on our side."

"Besides, if you didn't have the training you had, you couldn't have saved all our lives as many times as you have. I know I'm grateful, Ziva." McGee said. "I think that balances out anything...before you came here."

"Thank you McGee, Abby. Now, you have a mission. Go," Ziva said, making a small shooing gesture at them.

McGee's truth and Abby's unconditional love making her recover from her memories and come back to herself very quickly. As they scurried away to carry out her orders, she smiled to herself. This was a mission for good and she was glad that Gibbs trusted her with running it. These were the people she loved most in the whole world and she wanted nothing more than to make each and every one of them happy as much as she possibly was capable of doing. They saved her and they loved her without condition, and they even loved her enough to slap her back into her place when she needed it. She smiled again, deliriously happy that she could help demonstrate her love in return.

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Tony's eyes were watering as he sliced another onion. "Can I do something else?"

Ziva shook her head. "No, those are absolutely needed for one of the dishes," she said, putting a large amount of Napa cabbage into a large pot of boiling water. She turned to Tony. "Listen, I am grateful you're helping me with this, but stop the whining. This is for Ducky. Do not be such a little girl."

Tony put up a facade of mock offense. "I'm not whining. These onions sting. But, you're right, this is for Ducky."

She flashed him a quick smile. "How's the fish doing?"

"Good. Once I'm done with the onions I'm patting them dry and battering them to fry." Tony said, flashing her a smile of his own. "I'm glad you had this idea. We could have lost him last May."

"Please do not dwell on what could have happened. It is too sad. And, this idea was not mine. It was Gibbs'," Ziva corrected, pulling out her heavy bottomed frying pan. She put it on the stove with a small pat of Irish butter in it. "He just entrusted me with carrying it out. Besides, I really want to do this for Ducky. He and I have regular tea times. Sharing a pot of tea can be very intimate, Tony. Talk that can not happen any time else can happen over tea. And it reminds me of past times. Jenny Shepard and I had a covert op in the U.K. that lasted nearly a year before I joined NCIS. I got used to tea time and it is pleasant to sit with Ducky and remember the good times and friendship that Jenny and I shared. It never hurts that he always has cucumber sandwiches."

Tony fell silent, wondering just what she and Ducky spoke of over the years. He knew that she had spent many an hour down in Autopsy after they brought her back from Somalia. How much of what happened to her did she tell him? He knew Ducky would never tell. "So, you and Ducky talk a lot?"

"Some," Ziva said, checking the potatoes. "Mostly it is his stories and sometimes it is merely mundane talk and sometimes it is more. There are some things that I cannot...we have talked."

"You know you can talk to me about anything, Ziva," Tony said, fixing her with a very serious gaze. "Anything."

"I know. But there are some things that are just for Ducky and me." She smiled at him, her dark eyes twinkling in joy. "I want today to be special for him. He lost his mother last year and then with his heart attack...I want him to feel very loved as he is. You know, in my heart, he is my Zaida."

"Zaida? What's that?" Tony asked.

"Grandfather. I only vaguely remember Zaida David. He was a lot like Ducky. He even worked with dead bodies. He was a butcher and sausage maker. Zaida would make me a sausage every year on my birthday, just a little bigger every year. He died when I was eight. Maybe this is why I am so fond of Ducky," Ziva said, wiping a stray tear. "I want him to have a wonderful birthday, Tony."

He touched her arm, ever-so-briefly, mved by her story. "Me, too."

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"Bogey at three o'clock, Archangel," Gibbs said from his crouch in the bushes outside Ziva's Silver Springs apartment.

"Stand down and return to base, Papa Smurf," Ziva said with a wide smile. She called into the rest of the apartment, "Duck's flying to the pond. Get in position."

Ziva took off her apron, stopped for just a moment to check her reflection n the mirror. Hair done in soft waves, emerald green dress on that Ducky once complimented her on. She straightened her skirts and waited near the door.

The bell rang and she waited for a count of ten before opening it. "Ducky! Happy Birthday!" she declared and then gave him a large hug and a kiss on the cheek. She let him go and opened the door wide.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" the team shouted joyously.

Ducky staggered slightly, taken aback with the jovial surprise. "Oh my! Thank you all! Ziva, was this your doing?"

"Nope. It was mine. Ziver is just good at covert ops like this," Gibbs said, giving his long-time friend a slight hug. "Let's get on with it."

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"You have a piano, Ziva. Do you play?" Ducky asked.

"Yes, I do. In fact, Palmer did me the favor of tuning it for me this morning. He has a surprisingly sensitive ear. I believe Tony plays as well," she replied over a glass of tawny port. "Tony, will you play for us a little?"

"I...uhm...I'm not...uhm..."

"You can play something from Casablanca for us, Sam," Gibbs quipped good-naturedly, sipping on a Guinness...something Ducky had requested. Gibbs found it not bad at all.

"Okay. I'm a little rusty but let me see what I can remember," Tony said, sliding onto the piano bench and playing around with the keys. They sounded perfect. Palmer had a hidden talent.

While DiNozzo tinkered with the keys, finding his sound, Ducky pulled Ziva aside. "The meal was fabulous, my dear. You really went all out just because of me. Thank you. You have reminded me of my youth in the U.K."

"And you always remind me of mine and the times I had shared with my Zaida David. He was a lot like you, Ducky. I think this is part of why I love you so much," Ziva said, kissing him on the cheek.

"I love you, too, sweet Ziva," he said, giving her a small peck back. "Now, I understand that our Ms. David is quite the song bird."

Ziva turned crimson. "No, my sister could sing. She sang opera. I just make do."

Gibbs shook his head. "Yet Mossad sent you undercover a few years ago as a cabaret singer. From what I've seen, you don't suck."

"That's an order, David," Leon Vance said from his space deep in the recesses of her over-stuffed couch. "Sing"

Ziva felt her throat closing and gulped a good mouthful of tawny port before she spoke. "If you insist, Ducky."

"I do."

She gulped, nervous. "Tony, do you know 'Cry Me a River' in G?"

Frighteningly enough, I do," he answered, testing the tune on the keys. "That it?"

"Yes," came her nervous reply. "It was an undercover assignment-"

"Shut up and sing for my birthday," Ducky said with an encouraging smile.

She nodded, swallowing her nervousness. This was all for Ducky. "Okay. Tony?"

Tony began playing and Ziva closed her eyes. Strangers, even Mossad operatives in a hot, smoky Morrocan cantina were less a daunting audience than her friends, family. She was nervous. Ducky. Just think of Ducky. She concentrated on Tony's piano skills, which were fantastic. "Now...you say you're lonely..."

Ziva, eyes shut, Tony's piano only guiding her, continued to sing for Ducky and Ducky alone. When the end came, she opened her eyes to see a wet-eyed Ducky and a stunned team, Tony included. She went to Ducky and hugged him and kissed his cheeks again. "Happy Birthday."

"Your voice is stunning. Sing more for me," Ducky said, backed up by sounds of agreement from the rest of the team.

"Anything for you today," Ziva said. "How much do you know, Tony? I cannot play and sing at the same time."

Tony smiled at her, joying in finding a secret talent in her. Her voice was like liquid honey. He spoke in his best Bogart. "Keep calling them, shweetheart and I'll keep tickling the ivories."

"Ducky's call!" Ziva declared as the night was filled with fun, music and laughter. Abby, also, proved to be quite a voice and piano player. She was more avant guarde and rough, but extremely talented as well. The team universally praised her music, again, finding another hidden diamond in their midst.

For a night no one truly wished to voice the concept that Doctor Donald "Ducky" Mallard might have not been with them far back in May, he was and everyone was willing to showcase hidden talents or play silly games just to celebrate his life and their joy that he was still with them.

As Ducky drifted off to sleep, the sweet sound of Ziva's voice echoing in his head, he counted himself so very loved, so very cherished by those he had come to love as a family. What a gift they had given him that night. What a gift.


End file.
